All very well but for me this article did not reflect being 50 in any real sense.

Here are the steps that you will inevitably encounter when you’re 50.

Tradition dictates that there should be 50 of these, but 10 is all I’m prepared to read at one sitting.

Alcohol: moderate drinking leaves you with a hangover which would’ve taxed Gandhi. More than moderate drinking has you escorted to a hospice. Drinking over more than one day means a trip to an expensive rehab centre.

You will forget the name of someone you’ve known for at least ten years; you’ll be too embarrassed to admit it. Months later you’ll be trying to remember where you put your keys; for no obvious reason the name will pop back into your head.

A malicious poltergeist will move into your house. It will confine itself to moving your keys, your money, your work’s access pass. You will spend the start of most journeys hunting for one or more of these items.

You will develop an irresistible urge to sleep whenever you sit down – any comfortable surface will find you drooling into your collar: park benches, train seats, brambles, nettles.

You’re on better terms with the doctor than you have been your whole life; your medical records are being moved to The National Archives.

You meet some people from school and find at least one person you knew is already dead and has been for some time. You start guessing which of you will be next.

Without warning you develop a fondness for cardigans, they become your default outer wear.

Saga starts to send you junk mail – for some reason their trips start to look interesting.

Room temperature of 20 oC seems to be like the inside of a Greenland glacier; you keep revisiting the thermostat.

The heroes you’ve had in your life now turn out to be paedophiles or dead or more often both.